Revival
by TeaC0sy
Summary: Jin Kazama, whoreson of Kazuya Mishima, thrown from a cliff by his father, who was in turn returned the favour, who then threw your daddy into a volcano,' Hwoarang said in one breath, staring straight back. After a pause, Jin grinned. 'Point taken.'
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Jin Kazama was trying to (politely) push Panda away from him; she had been trying to get him to play with her and Xiaoyu for the past ten minutes.

"Get... off..." Jin swatted away her paws. He was staring at a fixed point, some distance away. Panda, preoccupied with her disappointment and annoyance at Jin, didn't notice, and ran back to Xiaoyu to tell her of her failure.

Jin had only been walking for a moment when Xiaoyu caught up with him, panting. He took no notice. "Hi Jin-Jin!" Xiaoyu squealed in mostly unbroken Japanese. "Panda said you don't wanna play. Why not? We'll do whatever you want," she informed him. Still, she couldn't catch Jin's eye. "Unless it's me you don't want to be with," she added, confident this would catch his attention and make him apologise endlessly for ignoring her.

Jin barely blinked. "Huh?" Still, he stared ahead. What the _hell _was going on down there?

Xiaoyu was annoyed and out of breath. "Jin!" She said shrilly. Jin finally stopped walking and turned slowly to face her. "Come with me and Panda, we're going to meet Miharu and then we're gonna go to that park that's somewhere -"

"I'm sorry, Xiao," Jin looked her in the eye until she blinked a couple of times. "Not now. Later, I promise." He gave her a slight nod of the head, and resumed his fast walking.

Xiaoyu watched his rapidly retreating figure and screamed "You'll be sorry, Kazama!" before running back to Panda. Jin barely registered it. He had just spotted a flash of red and heard a low-pitched cry of some victim. That meant only one thing to Jin.

---

"Hwoarang is back!"

A goggle-sporting redhead was zooming around the area on his motorbike, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Hwoarang is back, baby! Yeah..." The residents of the houses he was riding around all came filing out of their homes, the better to see the source of the racket. Those familiar with Hwoarang's antics (almost all) merely shook their heads and watched him and a man lying somewhere in between consciousness and unconsciousness on the floor semi-interestedly before walking back into their houses, while the others, mostly young children, stayed to watch anxiously.

The man lying on the floor groaned through the blood trickling from his nose as Hwoarang's bike rode around him once and then stopped sharply at his side. Hwoarang tapped the back left pocket of his jeans, which made a satisfying _pat pat _before turning to the man, a smile on his face, his eyebrows cocked. The man tried to get up, and Hwoarang offered him a hand, which the man reached for, gingerly, reluctantly. Just as their hands were a couple of inches apart, Hwoarang snatched his arm back, threw his own flaming hair behind himself and laughed wildly. The man on the floor stared at Hwoarang, and then slumped back to the floor, hopelessly.

"I _earnt _that money, urchin!"

Hwoarang was still laughing as he rode away.

---

Jin wondered why Hwoarang wasn't in his home country. He thought he loved it there. There was no tournament announced here. Maybe he wanted to bring over his whole 'reign of terror' to Japan, having mugged everyone in Korea already. _Or maybe he's looking for me_, Jin thought.

He didn't really know what he was doing, trying to find Hwoarang. It always ended up the same: Hwoarang demanding a fight and him trying to make an excuse. Hwoarang hearing none of it (as usual) only for some other little snag to show itself. Still, Jin thought, it'd be a change from that panda. She demanded his attention more than Xiaoyu, nowadays.

Jin stopped walking for a minute and leant against a tree, one foot bent on it and the other on the ground, pushing his hair back against his skull. He gazed up into the leaves above him, and the flickering light of the sun passing through them as the leaves blew in the slight wind. A while later Jin heard a loud but distant-sounding revving, and recognised it immediately. Pushing himself to a normal standing position, Jin waited. And waited. As the revving got louder still he shook his head, making his fringe fall back into his eyes, rather long, but short enough not to obscure his vision. _Ignorant or all-knowing? _Jin pondered absently as to how he should appear when he saw Hwoarang, and decided on a polite indifference as he stepped out from under the tree. Hwoarang's motorcycle was about forty metres away, and he braked as soon as he saw Jin walk forward a couple of steps. He smiled.

"Kazama!" Hwoarang greeted his company, and swung his right leg over so he could jump off the bike.

Jin looked bored. "However did you know it was me?" he asked, trying to portray said indifference.

Hwoarang picked up his bike, and laid it against the nearest tree. "Well," he said, his loud voice carrying probably to the tops of the tallest tree, "I almost didn't recognise you, what with those big muscly arms you've grown." He began to walk towards Jin.

The darker-haired man waited until his acquaintance was closer to him before speaking. "Tell me," he began, flicking his fringe to the side, "why do you wear those goggles on your head?"

Hwoarang ran a hand through his own hair before replying. "Because I wear a belt around my waist."

Jin chuckled lightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Always the comedian."

"Eh, better than a kill-joy," Hwoarang answered lightly, lowering his arm and stopping some ten metres away from Jin. Jin raised his eyebrows. He half-expected Hwoarang to declare that this town wasn't big enough for the both of them.

"I'm a kill-joy, now?"

Hwoarang looked occupied as he tightened the strap of his left glove nonchalantly. He waited until it was satisfyingly snug around his wrist before replying. "Oh, sorry, I must have mistaken you for some other black-haired arse that chickens out of fights."

Jin rolled his eyes. "I don't 'chicken out', there are just more important -"

"What, like your _family_?" Hwoarang sneered. They locked eyes.

"I don't know, Hwoarang, what are families like?"

Hwoarang was surprised at this. It was like Kazama to jab at him once or twice but it was usually he who delivered the low-blows.

"You tell me, Jin Kazama, whoreson of Kazuya Mishima, the man dropped from a cliff by _his_ father, who was in turn returned the favour, who _then _threw _your _daddy into a volcano," Hwoarang said in one breath, to emphasise, staring straight back. After a pause, Jin grinned again.

"Point taken," he muttered.

---

It was Hwoarang's turn to chuckle. He walked a little closer, and looked over Jin's shoulder. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"Why, jealous?" Jin asked idly. Hwoarang raised his eyebrows.

"Of what, exactly?"

Jin scowled. "She's not my girlfriend," he muttered, frowning at the ground.

"Oh," said Hwoarang. "Well, you'd think so, given all the '_Jin-Jin!_''s she emits."

"Shut up."

They stood facing each other for a minute or so in silence, each seeking to irritate the other. Hwoarang coughed lightly. Jin didn't move. So he coughed again, a bit louder.

"What?" Jin snarled, feeling as if he was in the presence of a young problem child. Hwoarang blanched innocently.

"Oh, can I speak yet?" The sarcasm was tangible and Jin's lip curled at one side.

"No."

A moment. Then, "See? Kill-joy."

"You're such a baby."

"And you've aged before your time, Kazama! Live some," Hwoarang pestered Jin, cracking his knuckles.

"Like you do?" Jin retaliated, cocking up one eyebrow. "You need to grow up."

Another silence. It wasn't that Hwoarang couldn't think of a comeback, oh no, he had plenty of them. He just wanted to stop this pointless bickering.

"So Kazama," Hwoarang broke the short-lived quiet. "Let's get down to business."

Jin closed his eyelids for a second before re-opening them and replying off-handedly. "Business? I have none with you, Hwoarang. Perhaps you have mistaken for another black-haired, _arse, _that chickens out of fights."

"How original," Hwoarang muttered, rolling his eyes. He was becoming impatient. "Look, I want a fight. Now!" He added, as Jin continued fiddling around with his hair. He was doing that rather a lot nowadays.

Jin lowered his arm, looking his rival in the eyes again. "Just shut up."

**

* * *

Xiaoyu's lovely really, but had to be extra-annoying (but she already is! you cry) and she isn't really a big part of the story. There is more of this still to come. Can readers please review to tell what they think of it so far / if it's worth carrying on with? Also, a potential title: This really needs one. Much appreciated :) Over and out.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Even as Jin turned his back, supposedly intending to go back to Xiaoyu and her panda, he marvelled that he and Hwoarang had had a conversation without his rival losing his flaming temper and charging him when Jin 'least expected it'. That said, he knew that his mild surprise would be short-lived.

"OI! Kazama!"

Jin had barely turned around again before he saw a flash of steel on beech coloured shoes. The impact forced his upper body to spin the way it had come again. Losing his balance, and not absolutely hell-bent on retaliating, Jin allowed himself to topple over, his right hand the first thing to touch the sandy ground, the rest of him following. His body in a flattened 'm' shape, Jin gingerly felt the sticky side of his face. He brought his hand to eye level, and sure enough there was a small smear of scarlet liquid. "Shit," Jin said, almost appreciatively, and wiped his hand on his trouser leg. Hwoarang placed a hand on his hip before towering over Jin.

"_'Shit'._" He repeated. "And that was the best you could come up with?"

Meeting his eyes, Jin sprang back up, narrowly avoiding head butting the redhead. "Was attacking someone from behind the best _you _could do?" Although he must have been an inch or so shorter, Jin continued to stare readily into his eyes. Hwoarang had begun to retaliate when a figure moving behind him caught Jin's attention.

He frowned, from this distance he could not make out exactly who it was, but their posture seemed familiar enough. Hwoarang, noticing the shift in Jin's attention, kissed his teeth and also turned his head, albeit warily. "What ya looking at that's more import-" He paused, and then, realising who the figure was, groaned. He half-twirled around in frustration, kicking the ground. Jin stepped back, his frown becoming more pronounced.

Walking a few sharp steps toward the newcomer, whom Jin confirmed a male, Hwoarang addressed him. "_What_ the fu-I mean, what are you doing here?" Jin smiled slightly, despite his slightly throbbing cheek. This was someone Hwoarang obviously respected. Hwoarang turned back to face Jin, breathing somewhat heavier than usual. Again Jin felt as if in the presence of a badly-behaved child who had just been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. He let a soft laugh escape his lips. "_What?_" Hwoarang growled, looking irritated to no end.

"I'm still bleeding," Jin whispered waspishly, and walked around him in order to meet the man.

He heard Hwoarang mutter something along the lines of "calls _me _petty..." Jin knew he had seen the man somewhere. A second later he realised it was Baek Doo San, whom he had briefly met during the last King Of Iron Fist Tournament. He still hadn't answered Hwoarang. Advancing fast, Baek nodded curtly to Jin before stopping, facing Hwoarang. A moment or two passed before the silence was broken.

"Language, boy," is all Baek said in his heavily accented voice, and turned his face back to Jin, as if for confirmation. Jin bowed his head in reply, recognising a man of status, however confused he was at the turn of events. Baek returned it, and turned back to Hwoarang. The latter stared at the ground stonily. Grudgingly, he spoke.

"I meant, what brings you here?"

"'What brings me here...?" Baek trailed off.

Hwoarang clenched his jaw. He couldn't believe this was happening, here, in front of Kazama, of all people. "What brings you here, Master."

He caught a flash of movement and his eyes flew to Jin, who had flicked his head to the side, wearing a wolfish grin. Frustration bubbling inside of him, Hwoarang let out a stream of Korean in Baek's direction.

"We were going to fight, Master! We were both ready for it, we were all built up and whatnot, I was goaded enough to fight awesomely, and then you came, Master, and broke my flow!" He paused to draw breath. Taking advantage of this, Baek raised a hand, forcing Hwoarang silent.

"What were you thinking? Have you not learned anything these past years? Do you not know what it means to fight with honour, whether to win or lose?" Baek chided in Korean. Jin just waited patiently behind the two of them, not understanding a word either said.

"I wouldn't have lost! Not this time!" Hwoarang cried indignantly.

Baek clicked his tongue impatiently. "Not the point. _You never start a battle when your opponent's back is turned!_ How many times, Hwoarang?" Instead of waiting for an answer, Baek turned to Jin again, who was still standing there politely, his arms folded behind his back. Baek reverted back to English so he could be understood. "I apologise for my student's behaviour. You can be sure he will never begin a match in that manner again."

Hwoarang slapped his thigh, scoffing, still speaking in Korean. "Oh, you love _him_. Sure, everyone does. _A hero from a broken home,_" he spat in English, "who could resist-"

"Hwoarang, know your place. Control your mouth. And for God's sake tighten that belt," Baek told off Hwoarang in English so as to embarrass him in front of Jin, hoping to make the message stick. Hwoarang merely inhaled deeply and clenched his jaws.

"Thank you," said Jin to Baek, resuming their conversation.

"Well it's true!" Hwoarang interjected again. He looked furious at being humiliated like a child in front of his rival. "It's easy for someone to swoop in one day and act the hero! Ask, he must know all about that," he spat, glaring at Jin.

Ignoring Hwoarang, Baek jerked his head forward at Jin again, before replying. "You'll want to look at that," he said, looking at Jin's cut cheek. "You don't want an infection, especially not just before the tournament. It'll give your oponents the wrong impression, I daresay. I'll see you there. Good day." Baek turned to leave with Hwoarang, motioning for his student to follow. Jin's smile changed to a frown.

"What tournament?"

Baek stopped again, turning back to Jin. He was also wearing a slight frown as he observed the younger man. "The King of Iron Fist Tournament 6. I must confess surprise that you're unaware -"

Jin still didn't follow. "But _I _have the Za..." He trailed off, mind racing with possibilities. His face was troubled. "What's been going on?" What was he doing here, playing hide-and-seek with Xiaoyu and a panda when God-knows-what had been going on right under his nose?

A loud irritable huff snapped Jin out of his musings. Hwoarang had strode along to Baek and tapped his arm. "Are we going to stay for the heart-to-heart or do we have somewhere to be?"

Baek broke his gaze into Jin's eyes. Looking at Hwoarang, he sighed heavily. Really, this boy was the bane of his life. Glancing back at Jin and giving him a significant look, he bade him farewell. Jin returned a goodbye shortly, thinking. He backed into the tree he was standing against before Hwoarang's arrival and took no attention to his surroundings, until he heard his name being called. Blinking, Jin leant forward a little and saw Baek hurriedly approaching him again, his expression blank. As though in answer to Jin's questioning look he said, in a voice hardly more than a whisper. "Just got a call." He motioned to his trouser pocket, which Jin assumed to be carrying his mobile phone. Hwoarang, who had mounted his bike sometime before, now jumped off and was almost running to where Jin and Baek were. "There was no tournament. It's no longer safe. Especially for you." Baek looked Jin in the eyes. Hwoarang had reached them, and he watched Baek, then Jin, and then Baek again.

"Would someone tell me what's going on?" Jin silently seconded that motion. _What on earth? _Baek shook his head.

"No time. We need to get out of here, now." He turned swiftly and began walking towards Hwoarang's motorcycle. It's owner looked confused.

"What-? Why isn't it safe? Who cares? What's life without a little suspense? Eh, Master?"

Baek stopped, head bowed. Slowly, he revolved and faced Hwoarang. "Steve Fox is dead. _It isn't safe_. Now _come_, both of you, before something similar happens to you." He continued calmly to the motorcycle, waiting for Hwoarang and Jin.

Jin blinked. Steve Fox was dead? He remembered him... the British boxer. Strong. They hadn't exactly been friends but Jin knew him to be a reasonably good guy. That was when he remembered seeing Hwoarang and Steve always training together last tournament, joking together. _They _had been friends. He chanced a glance at the redhead.

His arm, perched nonchalantly on his hip moments before, drooped almost lifelessly to his lower thigh. For a few moments, his face was impassive. He looked as if he'd heard of the death of one he barely knew, as if the news bothered him the least it possibly could. Only his body language betrayed him. He stood slumped, and now looked the shorter of the group.

"Hwoarang..." Jin started awkwardly. In truth, he had no idea what to say, but he felt that he should do something. Hwoarang turned his head to him in one straight movement, almost robotically. Jin almost flinched, surprised, at the sight of his hollowed eyes. Such a difference from the eyes blazing with a kind of wild power only minutes previously.

"Hwoarang... I'm sorry - "

"What for? Nothing to be sorry for." Hwoarang's voice matched his movement, he spoke monotonously. Jin couldn't help but stare.

"I..." he started again, determined to say something at least half-consoling, rival or not. "I mean, you were friends - "

Hwoarang jerked suddenly. As if to cover up, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, and he turned his eyes to his glove. Tightening it once more, he replied off-handedly, in a much more Hwoarang-esque manner. "I have no time for friends, Kazama." They found each others' eyes. Jin could still see the hollowness in them.

Baek clapped his hands twice. "We can talk _later_. Right now, we need to haul. _Come_, for heaven's sake!" He perched himself gallantly onto the motorcycle, straightening out his top. "I think I'll drive right now," he added precariously, watching his student. Hwoarang walked over to him, also getting up on his motorbike behind his master comfortably. "Good boy," Baek said. As Hwoarang patted each of his pockets, looking for the keys, Baek turned. "Jin?" He called. Jin walked up to them, stopping a few paces away from them.

He bowed again, and straightened up, pushing back his hair. "The best of luck to you, Master Beak - "

But Baek clicked his tongue again, growing ever impatient and exasperated. "Must you always be so polite? I'm not saying goodbye. You have a car, don't you? You're coming."

Jin frowned slightly. "But I can't, of course. This is my home, this... " he gestured feebly to the landscape behind him. Only then did he really see what was there. Desolate floor. Emptiness. This was... _him_.

Why _was_ he here?

"Look, you come or you die. Simple. We'll have to get on the bike together for a small while, only to get to your house. Then we'll need a _car_." When Jin continued protesting, assuring it wasn't because he didn't want to lend his belvoed Carrera, Baek cut across him. "Hey, the more you stand here arguing with me the more danger you are putting our lives in," he motioned to himself and Hwoarang, who was sitting and watching Jin, keys in his hand.

Jin shook his head patiently. "No, I - thank you for your offer but - "

"JUST LISTEN TO THE MAN AND GET ON THE FUCKING BIKE!"

Jin stared at Hwoarang and Baek shifted in his seat so that he could get a better look at him. Hwoarang looked positively livid.

"I... okay..." Jin mumbled, before clambering up on the bike behind Hwoarang. He couldn't remember the last time he had been on one, and indeed was rather shakily amused at Hwoarang's outburst. Satisfied, Baek took the keys from Hwoarang's hand and started it up. "Er... I don't think this seat was made for three people." Jin was finding it difficult to sit on the bike.

"You'll be fine," Baek replied off-handedly. Jin said something about Xiaoyu, and Beak told him rather sharply, "She'll be fine, too. She has _family_." Jin remained quiet. Baek suddenly realised what he had said. He didn't mean it in a bad way. He turned around as much as he could, and sighed at the sight of the two youths, both staring stonily. _What a life_. He'd dwell on it another time, however.

"Ready?" asked Baek, and before an answer was made by any of them, the bike zoomed forward. Jin had absolutely no warning; he was still trying to get into a decently-comfortable and dignified position (he was sitting on the edge of the seat, after all) and the sudden movement forced him to lunge forward, grabbing hold of something to keep him on. It took him a few moments to realise that his hands were clenched around Hwoarang's waist. Unfortunately, Hwoarang seemed to notice at the same time.

"_Get off me_," Hwoarang snarled, loud enough to be heard over the howling wind rushing into their ears. Jin blanched and quickly retracted his hands, mimicking Hwoarang's position, sitting upright but not too stiff, hands clutching the sides of the bike.

The rushing wind whipped their faces and hair. Baek, his hair tied up as ever, was least troubled by this. Jin's hair slapped his face and got into his eyes. Even Hwoarang's hair, while pushed back by his goggles, was flying into his face and all over the place. Hwoarang calmly smoothed back his hair often, holding on to the bike with just one hand, but Jin for the life of him didn't dare. He thought he was dangerously close to being left behind as the bike zoomed ahead as it was.

"Now Jin," Baek said, stopping the motorbike at the edge of the clearing. "Your residence isn't far, is it?"

Jin shook his head no. Then, remembering that Baek wasn't facing him he quickly replied, "No, sir." Baek nodded approvingly.

"Good. Show me the way, you'll need to pick up a few things."

"Yeah Kazama, just a few hero things," Hwoarang muttered. His jibe was ignored.

"And hopefully," Baek looked around at his cramped quarters, "a vehicle."

"You know," called Jin over the howling wind as they set off again, "This seat is pretty small for three grown men to be sitting on."

Hwoarang replied instantaneously. "Don't diss my bike."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jin said flatly. A moment. "I just don't think these seating arrangements are totally... appropriate." He glanced down as he said it, seeing his front dangerously close to Hwoarang's backside. He had had to slide himself backwards every time they were near to contact.

"Yeah?" Hwoarang said after a moment. "Try sitting in the middle, Kazama. Don't get me wrong, I love my swinger parties, but I have to say that this one is taking that _love _a bit too far."

Jin almost laughed out loud, but caught himself just in time. Baek sighed irritably. "Both of you do know that there are more important things to be fussing about, don't you?" He slowed the bike down a little; the surroundings were becoming more of a flowing blur than a rapid splurge of colour.

Hwoarang scoffed. "For you, maybe. I have a reputation with the ladies to keep up here! Of course," he added, turning his head to catch Jin's eye, "it looks like I'm the only one here capable of that, eh Kazama?"

Baek sighed but otherwise remained silent, apparently giving up. Hwoarang's lip curled, and he faced forward again, snapping first the left, then the right side of his neck.

---

When they (uncomfortably) arrived at Jin's house, Hwoarang jumped off his bike at once. "That's never your car, Kazama," he said, trying not to betray his pride by showing his awe. Jin smiled a little proudly.

"Yep." He loved his slick black car. And he, with his cramped body parts, had never been happier to see it.

After about ten minutes of riding in silence from Jin's house, they were on a fairly busy road. Jin addressed Baek. "Why did I need my passport? Where are we off to?" They had stopped at a traffic light. Red. Baek didn't answer. Hwoarang mussed up his hair and rolled down the window, whistling as a group of girls walked by. Yellow. "Mr. Doo San, where - ?"

Baek didn't turn to face Jin when he spoke. "Airport," he grunted. Well he could've figured that much out. Green. Jin floored it.

"It'll be Oshima. That's closest. Will we go to Korea?" The tentative question remained unanswered, and Jin took the silence as a yes.

A half hour later, Jin decided to take a break after Hwoarang's constant moans that he was thirsty. They stopped at a small cafe and Baek ordered three coffees. "You can pay for them, Hwoarang," he said, "seeing as you've a nice fat wad of money in you pocket." Hwoarang scowled.

"We need to be fast," Baek muttered to Jin.

He was confused.

"Not much harm will come from a ten-minute break at a small shop," Baek explained. "It's not like they expect you to be here, in any case." As they sat down, Jin tried to figure out exactly what was going on. He didn't get very far, however.

"Exactly what is going on?" he asked Baek again. Inside, he felt a little twinge of embarrassment; he must seem like an impertinent little child, forever asking questions. Baek however turned his gaze on Jin, not looking remotely annoyed.

"Not here," he said finally. He half-glanced at Hwoarang, who was idly tracing the flowers on the tablecloth with his fingers. Jin looked at him too. He looked different.. younger, somehow. Yet older. More... innocent? than Jin had ever seen him, and at the same time more troubled.

"But if it was safe enough to stop here..." Jin trailed off, thinking he had gone too far and Baek would tell him off for his childish antics as he had done Hwoarang. He did not, however.

He merely sighed. "Nowhere's _that _safe. Not in these times, in this place, anyway."

They sat in thoughtful silence waiting for their coffees. When they came, Jin found himself impatient, and picked up the polystyrene cup right away. He soon put it down sloppily, after having burnt his tongue on the fresh coffee. Hwoarang looked up at him darkly.

A few more minutes passed. Then Baek spoke to Hwoarang in Korean. "How are you doing?" He spoke in a softer voice than usual, one a father might use in the presence of his poorly child.

Hwoarang didn't answer for a while. "How did he die?"

Baek looked sadly at him. "Not here," he repeated, with a sigh. Hwoarang looked like he was going to get angry again.

"Why not here? This is Japan! Everyone speaks Japanese! Who will understand us here?"

"You'll be surprised," Baek said darkly. "Now close your mouth and drink your coffee."

A moment. Then, "Not possible."

Baek looked questioningly at Hwoarang, wanting him to elaborate. Hwoarang sighed. "How can I drink my coffee if my mouth is closed?"

Baek almost laughed.

**A/N: Aw... we like Steve. Steve brings pride and honour to us Londoners Writing Baek was fun, and he's in this a lot, so yay for the Hwoarang-Baek bantering. And loads more Hwoarang-Jin bantering also double yay! Thanks to Divinely Ethereal for her title suggestion :D Again people, please make me happy with a review :)**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Italics are flashbacks.**_

**Chapter Three**

"You don't look the type, but you really love your creature comforts, Kazama."

Jin forced himself not to yell at Hwoarang for going through his CD collection, and ended up being saved the task by Baek. They drove in and out of busy roads for about ten minutes in silence. Jin kept on glancing outside the window at the busy Tokyo streets. Then he spoke to Hwoarang.

"You don't have to call me that, you know," he informed softly.

Hwoarang started, confused. "Huh?

"Kazama," Jin answered promptly, glancing at him in the rear view mirror. "I have a first name."

Hwoarang rolled his eyes. "Lucky you," he said under his breath, resuming his flat gaze outside the window. _Names!_ Why was there such a big importance on a name? It always annoyed him. Hwoarang considered his own. Or, rather, what Baek had given him. Named after the famous Hwarang of Silla! He had never known his surname, however. He assumed he had one once. But that didn't matter. It was just something else that made him unique. It was part of his _identity_.

Hwoarang blinked. The word triggered a seemingly long-forgotten memory.

_His nineteen year old self was kicking and punching a dummy in the gym most King of Iron Fist contenders trained in preparation during the tournament. A blonde man walked in, wearing red shorts and a fluffy towel draped around his neck. He stopped before Hwoarang. "You're obviously no boxer, are ya?"_

_Hwoarang spun around, startled. Seeing the man's face surrounded by a fluffy white towel however soon regained his cocky composure. Straightening up, he projected his voice ever so slightly. "Of course not," he tried to look disdainful. "I do Taekwondo." _

_The blonde laughed. "Okay, there, kiddo. Don't mind me, I'll only be here, training properly." He turned to the punchbag closest to him. _

_Hwoarang frowned. "Who are _you_, exactly?" _

_"I am Steve. Steve Fox," Steve Fox said. He tightened the straps on his gloves before throwing off the towel. "Professional boxer. Quite a name back home, I tell ya," he added casually, and performed a few quick one-two's on the punchbag. Hwoarang stepped towards him._

_"Really?" he asked, nearly impressed with Steve Fox's ability, credibility and confidence. "And where's that then?"_

_Steve Fox delivered a particularly forceful blow; the punchbag spun and swung much faster than usual. Taking a step back so as to avoid getting hit, Steve answered Hwoarang. "London, of course. England. No place like it."_

_"Oh, London? Cool," said Hwoarang, trying to tone down his (very slight) excitement. He'd always been interested in London; when he spoke English he tried to mimic their accent. "I'm Korean!" he added brightly. Steve merely looked at him and smiled much too late._

_"That's great, son." He turned back to the punchbag. _

_Hwoarang was confused. "Why did you call me 'son'?" He didn't even have a father. Steve, who had been in his boxing stance, let his shoulders drop reluctantly. _

_"It doesn't mean you're really my son. It's just a name people use for males a lot younger than themselves." _

_"You're not a lot older than me," Hwoarang protested, straightening his back again to enforce his height. "Well, I mean, you look good if you are!"_

_Steve looked as if he wanted nothing more than to punch Hwoarang right then. Sighing, he said "I'm twenty-one; go figure." He finally delivered a long and brutal combo. _

_Hwoarang bristled. "I'm nineteen! Not a lot younger than you!" Steve had the grace to look politely surprised as he continued beating the crap out of the punchbag. _

_"Really?" he asked between hits, not actually caring for an answer. "Good for you. You seem a couple of years younger."_

_"Really," Hwoarang said, obviously wanting to impress Steve. "But it doesn't matter. I'm 3rd Dan, you know," said Hwoarang, flexing his muscles, oblivious to Steve Fox's indifference._

_"That's great," he muttered again, stopping his boxing. He didn't see any point if this guy was going to keep pestering him. "Really. Shall we just train now?" He really wasn't in the friend-making mood. _

_Hwoarang completely misunderstood Steve's meaning. "With me? Oh, sure!" He walked over to an empty space, preparing for a sparring match. He was silent for a moment. "Well?" He prompted. Steve looked dumbfounded. "Get your arse here!" _

Hwoarang snapped back. He knew, always did know he hadn't really a true identity. Just like Steve. He nearly jumped when Baek broke his contemplative silence.

"You two are a bit quiet," he said.

Jin shrugged. "Nothing important to fuss over," he said. Baek smiled.

A moment later, Hwoarang said, "I take it back."

Baek frowned and Jin said "Huh?"

"Steve. He was my friend."

Jin didn't know what to say. He followed Baek's example and stayed silent, giving Hwoarang the chance to continue if he needed to.

"He was a good guy," Hwoarang finally mumbled, and felt the unfamiliar sensation in his throat. _Oh, for fuck's sake_. He almost slapped himself on the forehead. _No need to act like a girl_. But he couldn't help it. Without a sound escaping him, he finally allowed his eyes to burn.

**A/N: Aw, Hwoarang has feelings. Who would have thunk it, eh? He probably seemed a bit **_**too**_** impressionable and childish in the flashback, but... it's not your story :p We made Steve a wee bit up himself. Butoocares? We like fit arrogant blokes, don't we ladies..? Oh yeah, Steve might have been bumped up a couple of years.. - Thank you to those reviewing! **


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